A Blind Date
by Marivan
Summary: Elliot takes Babs up on her offer from the end of PC. A Post-ep. One-shot.


She told him that since it'd been two and a half years since his divorce it was high time he got out on the market again, started seeing someone. After all, _she_ had a date tonight, with, as far as Elliot was concerned, some good for nothing bastard. She thought _he_ should do the same. And so for his first date as a not-so-newly single man, Elliot had called the only woman he could think of, the only woman with whom he knew he had a standing invitation: Babs Duffy.

This is how he found himself sitting in a bar a couple blocks from his apartment, as the redhead plunked down across from him.

"Hey there Stabler," she began brightly. "You know, I never thought you'd actually take me up on my offer."

"Well, to be candid," he told her sheepishly, ducking his head and studying his beer bottle intensely, "neither did I. But, you know, times change..."

She nodded. "I'm gonna be straight with you, Stabler..." Elliot's head snapped up from his drink. "No, not that kind of straight," she amended with a laugh. "Well, there's no easy way to say this." She paused, took a steadying breath, "you're about two months too late."

Elliot furrowed his brow. His mind went into panic mode, thoughts coming so fast they were tripping over one another. _Two months too late. _Two months too late for what? Had he broken some arcane rule of dating he hadn't paid attention to since high school?

Babs laughed. "Wow," she began, " for a detective, you're really clueless sometimes..."

"Let's keep my job out of this, how about."

"Yeah. Whatever." She brushed his comment off with a flick of her wrist. She lowered her head, brought it closer to his. Elliot's eyes widened, a replay of _that_ kiss running through his mind in perfect technicolor and detail. But she stopped short and said, so quietly he almost couldn't hear it, "I'm in a relationship with someone. Have been for two months."

Elliot slumped back in his chair. Just his luck that the only woman he could muster up the courage to ask on a date was already taken. It was a thoroughly rotten beginning.

After a moment, "My condolences," he mustered, with a winsome smirk.

"Screw you, Stabler," Babs replied, without a moment's hesitation. "She's wonderful. The love of my fucking life." Babs ran a finger around the rim of her beer bottle, gently caressing the cool glass. Her eyes went all dreamy as if she was staring at some object of desire hundreds of feet behind his head: an expression Elliot never thought he'd see on this particular woman. Babs sighed. She glanced up at him through her eye lashes, a move which would have been intensely seductive if it wasn't... well, Babs. "And she understands my Twitter addiction," she added, "which is such an amazing bonus. Encourages it even, which can't be good for me, but hey I am not complaining."

Silence fell between them. Unsure of how to respond or what to say (a joke seemed a bit to crass, a sincere "I'm happy for you" too contrived, formulaic), Elliot took a rather larger swig of his beer and swallowed slowly. Babs too took a sip and then started: "So, let's get down to business, shall we?"

"Uh, sure," he replied, fighting the urge to break out into that song from that Disney movie that his two eldest had loved when they were little. He had no idea where that impulse had come from (it couldn't have been the alcohol; he hadn't even finished his first beer) and he had no idea where she was headed with this conversation. He was just along for the ride.

"We both know why you asked me here-" she began.

And for some reason, some inexplicable reason, Elliot felt the impulse to interject: "And why is that?"

"Because," she said and then cleared her throat, "you're single and for whatever reason decided you wanted to start getting some again and you thought I could help."

Elliot about gagged on his drink. "Yes to the last bit," he stammered out. "The first part, not so much."

"Whatever you say, Stabler," she scoffed. "In patriarchal and hierarchal societies, after all, sex is the driving factor behind 100% of inter-personal relationships, and-"

"Babs," Elliot called, frantically trying to stem an oncoming rant before she build up too much steam. "Babs!"

"What, Stabler?"

"Your point is?"

"My point is," she began drawing out each word and placing it on display, "that even if you're not looking for sex up here," she tapped her temple with an index finger, "down there, it's the only thing on the agenda. And since men only have enough blood to use either one or the other, well... you're looking to get laid, Stabler, you just don't want to admit it."

"Okay, so I'm looking to get laid," he said, hands drawn up defensively, "Fine. Now you said you were going to offer me some advice and I'm still waiting to hear it..."

"Advice. Right. So here's the deal. I know the perfect woman... straight woman..."

"Babs, are you trying to set me up on a blind date?" He asked, his pulse starting to quicken in panic.

"No," she replied coyly. "The beauty of it is that you already know her."

"What?" she said, racking his brain for any person they had in common and drawing a complete and utter blank. "How? Who?"

"You want me to answer all of those, Stabler?" she retorted with a smirk.

Regaining semi-normal cerebral function, he said: "No. No, just the last one."

"Well," said Babs, her finger caressing the rim of her bottle again, "she's got cropped Chestnut hair, the most a-mazing ass, and chocolate eyes you could drown in if you're not careful..."

As Elliot sketched the woman of Babs description, his pulse quickened. Could it be? No, no of course not. But what other female friends did they have in common? Elliot thought of all the women in his life which he had any sort of significant relationship with, and only one could he not rule out. "Olivia?" He didn't want to believe this. He didn't want to go down this particular path, but he was held captive at a date of his own design. The feeling of... helplessness, of fate didn't sit easy with him, as he waited poised and tense for an answer.

"Duh," she said like one of his teenage daughters.

Elliot's heart dropped in his chest. He recovered saying, "Yeah, uh, that's never going to happen."

Babs displayed a devilish smirk. "You know, that's exactly what Olivia said when it came up with her."

"When were you-" he began to ask.

She cut him off. "None of your business Stabler. Now," she took an overly dramatic breath and said, "my point is that Olivia definitely has a thing for you."

Elliot gritted his teeth. "Of course she has a thing for me. We're partner's. I've got her back; she's got mine."

"Is that testosterone making you all dense up there, Stabler, because when I said she's got a thing for you, I'm pretty sure I was referring to the fact that she looks at you like she wants to devour every fucking inch of you."

Elliot bit back a groan. This was Olivia. And she was off limits, no matter how much he wanted otherwise, especially right now. He glanced down at his watch. "I- I should get going."

"After just one beer?" she replied. "That's kinda lame, Stabler."

"Well, I'm sure you'd like to be getting home even more than I am," he said, as diplomatically as he could manage.

He stood up. She looked up at him, saying "We both know that's not the real reason." She too stood. "But I'm not going to argue with you either."

"Yes well, good to see you again Babs." He stood there awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, unsure of what the appropriate gesture of goodbye would be. The last time they'd done this, she had kissed him, and he knew that sure as hell wasn't appropriate. A Hug? A Handshake?

He needn't have worried. Just then, Babs took a step closer and grabbed him by his lapels. "You too Stabler." A beat. "And just remember: the heart wants what the heart wants." And with a parting thump on the chest, she turned on her heel and left, leaving Elliot flabbergasted and momentarily immobile.

_The heart wants what the heart wants. _

There was only one course of action, only one thing to do, only one way for this evening to end. He pulled out his phone and called the first number on his speed dial, the number that had been there for over a decade. "Hey Liv. It's Elliot... No. No, we haven't caught a case... I was actually just wondering..."

* * *

_A/N: Mwahaha. Yes, that's the end. Hope you enjoyed my first published SVU fic. And remember, reviews = love._


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